Shattered Secrets (Book of Red #1) (28 page)

But I don’t want to know.

Was I just
in
History of Kalós? Impossible. I could believe a lot of things, but not that. There’s no way air from inside a
book
touched me. There’s no way I heard birds singing and—

“Abby?

I stared through Derick and raised an eyebrow, hoping to avoid any scrutiny for my lack of paying attention—or any questions. “What did you say?”

“I said there’s nothing we can do to change the fact Will and Megan are going to… that’s not what you’re crying about though.” He reached up and wiped a stupid tear from my eye, a tear I didn’t realize was there.

Damn emotions.

“What is it?”

I shook my head, afraid any words would compound the lies. I wanted to tell him, but how could I? This magical book kept telling me not to. This book that knew more about the world and us and our places than seemingly anyone else.

He slammed
History of Kalós
closed, then jumped off the bed. “I know you well, Abigail. I know that you hate when people aren’t honest. I know you’re a stubborn girl who will fight for everything she believes in. And I know you weren’t listening to anything I read. You were thinking about whatever’s been on your mind since yesterday. Stop pretending I can’t see through you and tell me what happened just now.”

He’d believe me if I told him I thought our book somehow transported me to a magical place, but the power driving the words onto the page wanted me to keep secrets. I
should
tell him, but I had to keep quiet until I knew more. “Nothing happened.”

“Don’t make me call up that psychic Lady Marmalade from TV. I may not have been a believer in that hoojoo before, but I am now.” He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and glared at me.

All I could do was smile.

So intuitive, but so silly.

“You mean Miss Cleo. Lady Marmalade is a song, and I didn’t realize you liked oldies enough to know that.”

“You’re deflecting.”

Heat flared in my cheeks, but I took a deep breath. Anger would only prove his point. “There’s nothing to deflect from, Derick.”

“Right. That’s why you were on the verge of tears yesterday. That’s why you just touched the pages of this book”—he held up
History of Kalós
with both hands and shook it—“like it’s a piece of fine art. Have you always been a liar, or is this something new?”

“A
liar
?”

“Yes. A liar.” Derick sneered and tossed the book to the tile floor. “You’ve been lying since yesterday, or withholding the truth—whatever you want to call it. It’s not like you. You’re acting more like that piece of shit Mark than you are yourself.”

“Did you just compare me to someone you hate?”

“If the shoe fits.”

I scrambled to my feet, grabbed Will’s cell phone off the nightstand so I could call Megan and cry and hope she understood me, then barged from the room, making sure to knock Derick’s arm on the way out. “You’re one to talk, Derick. How many months did you hide from me? How many opportunities did you have to tell me the truth and you chose not to?”

He beat me to the front door and blocked my exit, standing in front of it like a human barrier. “And I hated every second of every day because of that.”

“And I forgave you when it was all over, didn’t I? I didn’t turn all stalker girlfriend and ask you every five seconds what was wrong or call you a liar, did I?”

I reached for the knob, but he grabbed it and opened the door for me.

“Maybe you should have. Maybe if you had, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Screw you. Your parents can make excuses for how afraid you were, but the truth is that
you
didn’t trust
me,
Derick.”

“Right. Because you always act rational and calm.”

“I don’t want to look at you right now.” I faced the wall like a petulant child and crossed my arms over my chest.

“Before you storm out, promise me something?” Derick forced me to turn around and pinned me with his blue eyes, with a sad expression letting me know I’d won—or lost, depending on how I looked at the situation.

Definitely lost.

He needed me, and I needed him. We needed honesty. What kind of hypocrite doesn’t trust the person she loves? How could I believe more in the mysterious writing of a book than Derick?

How could he trust fear more than he trusted me?

Jerk.

“What?”

“Promise not to get mad when I say I told you so.”

“Whatever.” Racing from our condo with tears streaming down my cheeks, I headed for the beach.

Three men passed by me. Two of them wore black suits and looked like they belonged at the president’s side and not some beach bum dressed in khaki shorts and a blue and white striped polo. The rejects from the secret service carried small moving boxes, while the other man’s hands were free.

“Excuse me, miss,” he said, a large smile on his leathered face.

Addressing him meant revealing my tears, but I could hardly run away. I wiped my cheeks, turned around and met his eyes; he was all smiles, and he looked oddly familiar, dark hair slicked back, high cheekbones. “Yes, sir?”

“I apologize if this seems as though I’m interfering in your business, but I couldn’t help overhearing you and your… ?” He pointed at my door, then shrugged. “Boyfriend?”

The wedding ring wasn’t on my finger, not with Derick in the house and mad at me, but people needed to believe we were married, and I really wanted this guy to believe that. “Husband, sir.”

The man looked at his sidekicks and laughed. “Well, boys, she’s older than I
thought
.”

Snickering, they glanced back at me with a predatory gleam in their narrowed eyes.

I shuddered.

“Again, I’m sorry. Relationships are difficult, Mrs…?”

Panic bells sounded in my head. Nosy equals bad. Nosy with bodyguards… worse than bad. I had too many people after me to trust anyone. And even though I knew Derick and I were protected in the Safe Zone, testing our boundaries seemed like a horrible idea. “Crawford. I have to go, Mr.…?”

“Call me Carl, Mrs. Crawford. I’m at a point in my life where I don’t like to be called Mr. anything.” Carl winked and reached out his hand, but my creep radar rendered my arm useless—or at least unwilling.

All his smiles and confidence now reminded me of a dirty politician, something that screamed kind and rich while at the same time carrying a certain serial killer quality.

So, I smiled instead.

“Nice to meet you. I have to go.” I waved and then ran to the beach. Fast. Well, as fast as a slug like me could run. Anything to get away from Carl. Seemed like the only thing I wanted to do today—get away from people. Looking Derick in the eyes and lying made me want to scream.

We’d fought before, but nothing like this. Our arguments started during our hide and seek days and then graduated more into what we wanted to do for fun on a Friday night, not
real
, grown-up problems defining our very character.

I
am
a liar.

A
liar
.

And to Derick.

Of all people.

I hated this situation.

I hated
myself
.

I plopped on the sand a few feet from the gently rolling surf and put my head in my hands. Will’s cell phone buzzed against my forehead, signaling a voicemail or a text or an e-mail or something that I shouldn’t look at.

Snoopy and liar don’t go together well.

Carl

“The girl was clueless. She walked right by the three of us without even an inkling of my identity. Just as you predicted, Ruckus: Abigail believes this island keeps her safe.”

I held my cell slightly away from my head, as though his smarmy vibes could somehow infect me. I really didn’t enjoy working with the lower class, but their methods proved useful when I needed to get ahead. And this man’s methods were brutal. One phone call to the authorities, asking for information on Abigail’s case, and he found
me
.

Whoever this man was, he had connections.

Lots of them.

And connections are exactly what I needed if I wanted to punish Adam and Lillian Crawford for threatening me with their witchcraft—and earn the added monetary incentive Ruckus offered.

I didn’t rise to the top of the corporate food chain by playing nice.

Or fair.

“Good. Now, listen closely: take out the boy first. I don’t want them finding their way back to each other. Do I make myself clear?”

“Got it.”

“And, Carl, if I would go to these lengths to get to one measly little girl, imagine what I will do to you if you do not come through.”

I squared my shoulders and hung up, without responding. People really get under my skin.

Darius, Andrew and I stopped outside Unit 242, then Darius tapped on the door with the tip of his gun, a foolish smile on his face.

“Really, Darius?”

He bowed his head, but his excitement displayed itself in other ways: wide eyes and the childish way he rocked forward on his toes. “Sorry.”

“Put away the gun. We didn’t come here to kill
him
, just rough him up a little, tie him up, then go for the girl.”

“And kill her.” Andrew couldn’t keep his mouth shut; I only hoped the snowbirds were all too old to overhear, or too senile to care.

“Yes. Eventually.”

Darius laughed and tapped on the door again, whispering, “I still don’t understand why we couldn’t just take her a moment ago.”

I closed my eyes.
Good help is so hard to find
. “Apparently Derick is more of a fighter than he appears in the photographs, and we need to subdue him first.”

The doorknob rattled.

Darius holstered his gun, reared his arm back, and as soon as the door opened, he punched the boy in the face, knocking him out cold.

Abigail

“Is this seat taken?”

Peeking above my arm, I nearly threw up when I saw Megan sit next to me. Face to face would be much more difficult than over the phone. “It is now.”

A meager smile lifted the corner of her lips. “You don’t look good.”

“I don’t feel good.”
Why is she here?

“Me either.” She sighed.

“Too much alcohol?”

“Not exactly.”

I lifted my head and sat up straight, looking Megan over. Still tan, still a perfect figure, still gorgeous flowing blonde hair, yet no makeup, and a new puffiness protruded under her eyes.

You did this.
Aedan’s words scorched my thoughts, sent them right up into flames, congesting my brain with thick smog.

What if Derick was right and we couldn’t stop what we saw from happening to Will and Megan? How could I do that to my friends?

Megan laughed and placed her palm on my forearm. “Relax. You’re looking at me the way Will did the first time he saw me without makeup.”

“That puffiness isn’t from a lack of makeup.” I slapped my hand over my mouth. “That sounded horrible.”

Her smile widened, became more real, less inhibited by whatever-the-hell-inhibited-her in this moment. “Nothing a little cucumber or cold compress won’t fix.”

“Why’ve you been crying?”

“Will’s selfish, but for whatever reason, around you, he cares. It’s like he’s alive and driven, the same way he is around my best friend. It’s like I’m a ghost and
any
other girl is better. I’ve wanted to be mad at Abby and hate her, but I can’t, so I probably shouldn’t hate you either.” She shrugged. “Abby doesn’t love Will. She doesn’t notice him. Not at all. That’s probably what he finds so attractive. She’s someone to chase. And I guess I just felt like I could talk to you. Do you mind?”

I dug my fingers into the chilly sand to hide the trembling. This was so hard, too hard. My best friend, complaining about me… to me. “Talk away.”

“I know I sound like the worst best friend ever, especially with her missing, but everyone has always gravitated toward Abby. She’s kind, beautiful, funny, loyal as hell. It’s like she can’t do any wrong.”

Heat flared in my cheeks. Megan made all those good things sound awful.

And I bet Derick would disagree on several of those points.

“Do you really want to hate me—I mean, your friend?” I squeezed the sand in my palms. Deep breath. “Or do you just wish Will wouldn’t see her?”